


snapshots

by emirens



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Fluff, Getting Together, Multi, there are time skips in between the snapshots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-09
Updated: 2020-02-09
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:15:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22640899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emirens/pseuds/emirens
Summary: Moments in the happy lives of Martin Blackwood, Tim Stoker, and Jonathan Sims.(brief snippets of mostly getting-together fluff for Jon/Tim/Martin).
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims/Tim Stoker
Comments: 5
Kudos: 121
Collections: The Magnus Archives Rare Pairs 2020





	snapshots

**Author's Note:**

  * For [shipwreckblue](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shipwreckblue/gifts).



> A gift for shipwreckblue in the tmararepairs exchange! Hope you enjoy this!! (I certainly enjoyed writing it :D)  
> My Martin is inspired by Harvey Guillen, who I discovered through [ this fic](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21141350) and promptly thirst-followed on instagram.
> 
> Note: some references to sexual activity (between Martin and Tim, not involving Jon).

In Martin’s defense, it was a very slow day at the bookstore café.

He had only taken the job in the first place because he needed money for university expenses, first, and then for his mom’s treatments, and then just because he needed money. Plus, his friend Sasha – she worked with him when they were both in school, but she got her degree and stayed anyways, to be “general manager” and hopefully owner, someday.

There wasn’t anyone there ordering coffee, was what he meant. So Martin was left to _stare longingly_ (it’s not _staring_ , shut it, Sasha) and listen to the man who did the weekly readings in the children’s corner.

Most of the kids who were regulars showed up since they were in after-school care – it was a late and gloomy winter afternoon that day, and the streets outside the old wood-framed windows were already dark. So naturally Martin’s attention gravitated towards the captivating man in the corner.

His name was Jon. He was always wearing rather drab office clothes, like he’d come here straight from work. He wasn’t even – wasn’t even that conventionally attractive, truth be told, and he usually had quite a stormy look when not talking to anyone except for the kids, but he was –

He told such _stories_.

He’d start by reading something off the shelf, of course, but even in this there was a power in his voice that had the assorted children (and Martin) hanging on his every word. He didn’t do silly voices, like some of the other volunteer readers, but something in the way he spoke was – different, for different characters, in a way Martin couldn’t quite place.

And after Jon would finish, he’d take questions from the children. Helping them with comprehension, making sure they understood what was going on. He wasn’t always the, well, friendliest of adults (especially not to other adults, especially one particular adult who happened to make the coffee). But he never, ever talked down to the children, and he really listened when they spoke, and they all _adored_ him.

Martin had never really got on that well with kids, himself. They seemed to sense he wasn’t speaking freely with them, somehow. He knew enough about, well, people, to match his words to their liking, but kids? No idea.

Maybe that’s why he sat there on his slow shift, sighing away over Jon the volunteer children’s book reader. _Christ, I need a distraction,_ he thought. He rubbed his hands over his eyes and went to clean the espresso machine a fourth time.

Halfway through, he was interrupted by a pointed cough.

“Erm – hello?”

“Sorry, I’ll be right with you,” said Martin instinctively. He gave the machine one last swipe with the rag and turned around to the register. “What can I get y- oh. Hi, uh, hi again, Jon.”

Jon maintained his stony expression. “I’ll have tea, milk, no sugar,” he said.

“Coming right up,” said Martin. He turned away from all of the inane thoughts in his head, most of which were thinking about the adorable quirk in his eyebrows Jon got when he was reading. _Kind of creepy, Martin, you barely know him…_

He focused on the tea, handing the steaming cup over to Jon across the counter. “Thank you, Martin,” said Jon. He didn’t take a sip but moved to pull out his wallet.

“Uh – it’s, uh, it’s on the house today,” blurted Martin.

“Sorry?”

“I – the tea’s on me today. Uh. I mean on us.”

Jon looked as thoroughly mystified as Martin had ever seen him. “What- what for?” he asked.

“Uh,” Martin said, having not gotten that far in his brilliant plan, “For- for the readings. You’ve got a great voice – I mean – you’re an excellent reader, uh, volunteer. With the kids. You’re here every week.”

Apparently, Jon had never been awkwardly complimented and/or hit on by a barista before, since he looked just as confused as he had before Martin explained. After a few seconds, he recovered. “I – uh. Thanks,” he said, and dragging his eyes up from the cardboard to-go cup he added, “Thanks, Martin.”

As soon as Martin heard the bell above the door chime Jon’s departure, he collapsed his head into his hands. _What a disaster of a man you are,_ he thought, smiling, while his heart beat wildly in his chest.

***

The thing is –

The thing is Martin wasn’t exactly used to all these people in the bookstore, is all.

Anyways. The bookstore was usually quiet. But today they were hosting an event for the local LGBTQ organization, highlighting books by queer authors, and the place was packed. Tables for authors, artists, and publishers were pushed up against the shelves, and all sorts of different people made their way among the crowds.

This was all wonderful, of course, Martin was thinking as he started up the expresso machine again, except the queue for the café was lining up against the back wall and wasn’t showing any signs of slowing down.

Martin handed a macchiato to a customer and moved over to the register again. Still sorting the change from the last transaction, he asked, “Hi, how can I help you?”

“I’ll take a dirty chai, please,” said maybe the most gorgeous man Martin had ever seen. He was wearing a soft-looking turtleneck that did nothing to hide the muscles in his upper arms. His eyes were dark and intense, and he had the bone structure of a GQ model, with just a hint of stubble around the jaw, and holy _shit_ , was he wearing _eyeliner?_

“S-sure, no problem, what size?” Martin asked. He could feel himself blushing. “And can I get a name for the order?”

“Medium, thanks. And I’m Tim,” said the man, gesturing to his name tag. The tag read _Tim Stoker, Walnut & Pine Publishing House, he/him/his,_ and had a tiny bi pride flag sticker in the corner.

“Tim. R-right,” said Martin. _Get it together,_ he thought, reaching up to pull the chai mix from the top shelf. _You see attractive people every day – just do your job for God’s sake._

“Chai for Tim,” he said, pushing the steaming cup onto the counter.

“Thanks,” said Tim. He took a small sip and hummed his appreciation. “Damn, that’s good. Hey – Martin, right?”

“I – yeah?”

“Come by the Walnut & Pine Publishing booth if you feel like it, after your shift,” he said. “and I’ll thank you properly.” He – he actually _winked,_ and then disappeared back into the crowd.

Martin had just a few seconds to look mystified after him before the next customer cleared their throat. “Sorry, sorry,” he said, and resigned himself to a very long shift indeed.

***

“You can’t hit on people when they’re at work, Tim.”

“I _didn’t!_ ” Tim said, raising his hands in mock innocence. “I asked him to come by _after_ he’s done working so I can flirt with him then!”

Basira crossed her arms and huffed. “A technicality, that is.”

“You didn’t see him, Basira, he was really good-looking!”

In Tim’s own defense, he _was_ very good-looking. Martin (according to his name tag) had thick, dark curls, broad shoulders, and a neatly-trimmed beard that Tim had immediately wanted to feel scratching at his neck. Even his faded customer service smile hinted of sunshine.

“You’re a menace,” said Basira, rolling her eyes. She turned from Tim to help a group of students who’d come up to their booth.

Tim busied himself with rearranging the baskets of pride pins and fliers on the table. When Basira had finished with the students, she helped. “Good turnout today,” he said, intending on making conversation, when –

“Uh. T-Tim?”

Tim’s face broke out into an expression as bright as Basira’s was gray.

“Martin! You stopped by!”

“Yeah, heh, I did,” said Martin, absent-mindedly running an adorable hand through his adorable hair. “What did you, ah, what did you need from me?”

“I _need_ nothing at all from you, Martin,” said Tim, “but I certainly wouldn’t say no to your phone number.” Again, Martin flushed a stunning muted red. _Damn_ but he was cute.

“I – uh – I mean – what, what for?”

“As my lovely coworker has been kind enough to point out, it’s inappropriate to hit on people at work. So I asked you here. To ask for your number.”

Martin’s mouth opened in a perfect little o of surprise. His flush crept further down his neck. Tim idly wondered if kept creeping under his collared shirt. _Focus, Stoker._

“You – what. To hit on, on _me?_ ”

“And to thank you for the chai. Easily the best I’ve had in a long time.”

“It’s just from a box,” Martin muttered, still looking a bit disbelieving, but he was smiling too.

“Okay, that was an exaggeration. It was a pretty good chai latte for a Starbucks. But I do actually think you’re very cute and would very much like to take you on a date sometime, if you’re amenable?” Tim said. He flashed what he hoped was his most winning smile.

“I really – you know what? Yeah, I am… amenable,” said Martin, smiling. He wrote down his contact details on a bit of Walnut & Pine Publishing stationary. Tim was thrilled to see his real smile was as sunshiny as he’d hoped.

***

Jon had taken one step inside the bookstore and was already regretting his decision to leave his flat.

There were people _everywhere_. It was more packed than he’d ever seen it, and he’d been coming with regularity for about a year. Booths were crowded between the shelves and the fire code had almost certainly been broken. Jon looked around desperately for the people he was supposed to be meeting.

“Jon! Over here!” shouted a familiar voice. Jon sighed in relief and walked over to the booth.

“Hi, Georgie,” he said. “How… how are you?”

“I’m doing great - this event is always so much fun,” she said. “Here – take a name tag! We have little pride stickers, too, if you want to decorate.”

Jon picked up a Sharpie and dutifully filled in his name and pronouns. After a moment’s consideration, he placed a bi and an ace flag sticker neatly in the corner.

“Thank you so much for coming by,” Georgie continued. “If you want, I can point you in the direction of a few must-see booths?”

“I – yeah, that’d be great,” said Jon. Georgie scribbled the names of a few visitors on a post-it.

“You’ve definitely got to see Walnut & Pine,” she said. “They’ve rebranded recently – I think they published that series you liked, about the puzzles and brain-teasers and what not. Doing some very interesting stuff.”

At that, Jon perked up a bit. “I – I think I might, yeah. Thanks, Georgie.”

“Of course! You have fun, I have to man the entrance,” said Georgie, handing him the post-it. “Don’t be a stranger!”

“I won’t,” Jon promised, heading off into the fray of people and booths.

Thankfully, Georgie had provided some semblance of direction. He moved to the center of the store. After many collisions and apologies, he finally spotted Walnut & Pine.

“Hi there!” said the man at the booth.

“Hello,” said Jon.

“Thanks for stopping by - did you have any questions?”

“I – yes, actually,” said Jon, bringing his eyes up to actually look at the friendly man. He was quite tall. “One of your older series – 'Space in Time' – about the history of, of puzzles, in different cultures - Do you have any plans to continue it?”

“Ah, I quite liked that one,” said the man, whose name was apparently Tim with a smiley face. _Not very professional,_ thought Jon. “Unfortunately, we aren’t planning on continuing that series. We’re shifting directions a bit, moving to more fiction and poetry collections.”

Jon nodded, attempting to conceal his disappointment and disdain. He did not, apparently, succeed. Tim gave a cough that sounded suspiciously like a laugh. Jon glared back up at him.

“Sorry,” Tim said, clearly trying to suppress a smile. “You just… don’t look like you like poetry much.”

“I find most of it overindulgent,” Jon replied, “and saccharine.”

Tim laughed for real this time, shaking his head, almost fondly. “Listen – Jon, was it? Jon, no offense intended, but you are absolutely rubbish at hiding how you feel.”

Jon cracked a smile himself and nodded. “I have been told that, yes,” he said.

“Well, good to meet a 'Space in Time' fan, anyways,” said Tim. “Hope to see you around!”

“You – you too,” said Jon, and was surprised to find he meant it.

***

Tim woke up pleasantly sore, pressed against the warm expanse of Martin’s chest. He leaned in closer and sighed in contentment. Feeling Martin shift a bit, he looked up at a pair of brown, sleep-weary eyes.

“G’morning,” said Tim, voice scratchy from sleep and numerous other activities.

“Hi,” Martin smiled back down at him. Then his face scrunched up and he rubbed a hand over his eyes. “Oh, Tim,” he said, “we never…”

“Never what?” asked Tim.

Martin sighed, letting his head fall back against the pillows. “We… sort of got a little carried away, last night.”

Tim pictured last night and found that he was of the opinion they’d gotten carried just the right amount. “How d’you mean?

“Remember before? When I told you I needed to talk about something?” Martin asked. “And, and you said, ah…”

“I said ‘if it doesn’t concern your feelings & consent re: me getting your dick in my mouth, it can wait until tomorrow’. That was the jist of it, anyways,” Tim said, enjoying the way Martin squirmed with embarrassment.

“Ah. Right,” said Martin.

“I certainly don’t regret it,” Tim continued, sitting to look up at Martin straight on. _Haha. Straight. Like I could do anything straight._ “What did you want to talk about?”

Martin sighed and ran a hand through his thick hair. “It’s just… I don’t want to be unfair to you, is all,” he said. “I know we’ve talked about – about how we’re not exclusive, or anything, but this feels like… crossing a line, somehow.”

“What feels like that?” Tim asked.

“I – hm. I’ve, uh, I’ve met someone,” said Martin.

“And… you’re exclusive, with him?”

“Uh. Not… not exactly? We have a date, this, this weekend.”

Tim raised an eyebrow. “So you… want to be exclusive with him?”

“Well, yeah,” said Martin, and then groaned. “I don’t really – I don’t really know how to talk about this stuff? I just… I don’t really – ”

“Are you breaking up with me?” asked Tim. “That’s – that’s fine, for the record, I mean, I’ll be pretty disappointed, but we did agree - ”

“No!” Martin said quickly. “I – ugh. I’ve just been, I guess, I’ve just fancied him for a while now, but I quite fancy you, too, and now I don’t know what to do with it at all, and I don’t want to hurt anyone with my confused feelings. I don’t want to hurt you.”

Tim took a second to process this.

“So, you like… both of us.”

“I think so, yeah,” came the muffled voice of Martin, who had shoved his face into a pillow.

“Hm,” said Tim. “Well… I’m certainly not opposed to still be with you.”

“You – what?” said Martin.

“Yeah,” Tim continued. “I… I like you quite a lot, Martin, and I’ve had a lot of fun, and I’d like to keep going. If this other guy is alright with it, I’d be happy to keep dating you.”

“If you – you would – what?”

“Who is this guy, anyways?” Tim asked. “Where’d you meet him?”

“Oh, it’s – it’s, uh, his name is Jon Sims,” said Martin. “We met… he comes to the bookstore, sometimes. To read to the kids.”

“Jon Sims? I know Jon Sims. I met him at the same event I met you. He’s… well, _interesting._ He’s funny,” Tim said, feeling slightly bolder now that Martin had explained the situation. “I certainly wouldn’t turn down a chance to get to know him better.”

“Get to know him, as, as in… all three of us?” Martin asked. Tim shrugged.

“If he’s alright with it, yeah. We could just… see where things go, I suppose.”

Martin looked down at his hands gently playing with the edge of Tim’s thin blanket. “I… I’ve never done anything, like that. Not for, uh…”

“Not for more than a night?” Tim said, and winked.

“Hush,” said Martin, smiling his embarrassed smile. “But. Hm. I certainly wouldn’t mind… giving it a try.”

***

“I can’t stand picking a place to sit at restaurants,” said Martin. Jon looked up at his boyfriend incredulously.

“There’s only two choices,” he said.

“But with both of you, it’s always weird on – on one side of the table, or the other,” Martin replied. “If I’m on my own, it’s like I’m being interviewed, or something.”

Tim smirked and put on his best Jon impersonation, which wasn’t very good. “Please explain your strengths and weaknesses.”

“Are you trying to impersonate me again? I sound nothing like that,” said Jon indignantly.

_“Tell me about a time when you lead a team to solve a problem – ”_

“The hostess is here, guys,” whispered Martin, “keep it _together_ – ” They walked to their booth, giggling.

After they’d ordered and ate most of the food, Martin fell quiet for a minute. “You alright?” asked Tim, taking the final sips of his drink.

“Yeah, I’m – I’m good,” said Martin. He was smiling. “Just thinking about… about you guys, and, uh. How lucky I am. To be with you both.”

Jon put his small hand over Martin’s and smiled oh-so-gently up at him. “We’re lucky to be with you, too,” he said. “Or at least, _I_ am,” he added dryly.

“Hey! Don’t question my devotion to either of you! I am not afraid to recite poetry loudly in this public space!” Tim said, leaning into Martin’s shoulder.

“Don’t you _dare_ ,” whispered a mortified Jon. Tim flicked a piece of napkin at him.

“Seriously, though,” said Tim, even while Jon rolled his eyes. “I’m glad we’re here together. Glad we decided to try it. I’m… I’m really enjoying it.”

Tim rested his hand on Martin’s and Jon’s.

“Anybody want dessert?”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Commenting gets you a place in my heart for you forever~


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